


Incalescence

by zythepsary



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zythepsary/pseuds/zythepsary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In Val Royeaux, Sera meets with friends and watches the Herald of Andraste.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Sera and Inquisitor Cadash. Five excerpts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incalescence

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious about what my Cadash looks like, [here she is](http://zythepsary.tumblr.com/tagged/ch%3A-vera-cadash).

In Val Royeaux, Sera meets with friends and watches the Herald of Andraste.

She's a dwarf. Little, with daggers on her back and dark tattoos on her cheeks. Sera holds up her pointer finger and thumb and shuts one eye, squinting at the small figure below.

"Squish your head," she says to no one. There's never anyone on the roofs but birds.

Cadash keeps walking. There's templars down there, too, and they talk, but it looks more like a fight. Sera nocks an arrow and waits, the note fluttering in the wind.

After, when Cadash has left for the docks, she walks through the markets until she finds a kid trying to pick her pocket. He's young and skinny, all elbows and knees, and he needs a new pair of boots more than a hot meal. She holds up a coin and tells him to follow the dwarf.

"Why," the boy demands, but he's staring at that metal like he could eat it.

"'Cause I'm a _friend_ ," says Sera, and the boy brightens and nods before running off to the docks. She returns to the roofs.

Cadash wanders this little corner of the city, picking up notes from friends. The short-haired woman is always by her side, hand on her sword. There's an elf—magic one, since he doesn't carry a blade—and another dwarf, both lingering back a few paces. The dwarf spots their tail early on, but all he does is nudge the elf and laugh. Sera keeps watch.

Eventually, the sun sets. Sera waits in her perch above the markets and whistles when the boy walks past. She climbs down, stone scraping her fingers raw.

"They're going to meet someone," the boy tells her, so eager to get the words out that he trips over them. He bounces a little, his cheeks flushed. "A courtyard. They didn't say where."

Sera knows where. She nods and rummages in her pockets, pulling out a few silvers. The boy's eyes nearly bulge out of his head. "Buy new boots from Laurent tomorrow. Shop 'round the corner, near that baker with the bum leg. You know it, yeah?"

"Yes." Hesitantly, he holds out his hands, teeth digging sharply into his bottom lip. When Sera drops the coin, his little shoulders tremble. "Thank you."

"You got a place for supper?" Sera asks. There's always places to find food, especially in cities, and it's easier for little ones. No one wants to starve them. "There's a spot nearby. Only soup, but it's still good."

The boy tucks the coin away in his pocket. "I do."

It doesn't sound like he's lying. Good. Sera pinches his cheek and tells him to go eat.

"Thank you," the boy says again. He flings himself into her belly, arms tight around her waist, before he disappears into the markets.

Sera heads for the courtyard. It's cramped, tucked away behind larger buildings, with plenty of dark corners to hide in. She sits in one and waits, bow across her thighs, and scratches her back with an arrow. The moon is bright but she's still sweaty, damp under her arms and the back of her knees. Val Royeaux is always hot, even at night.

Later, there's a dumb noble who thinks too much of himself and a lot of bare bottoms, and then—the Herald. The one who walked out of the Fade. Touched by Andraste, she is, and Sera believes it.

She's pretty, even under the scars. Bad ones. They cut across her cheeks and jaw, angry and thick, but she doesn't hide any of them with powders. Looks like someone tried to open her throat, once. She's got a deeper voice than Sera thought, and she's quick with those blades. Sera likes her already.

And she's _tiny_.

"You're all dwarfy," says Sera, laughing, and quickly adds, "I don't mean nothing, but…you're down there."

The other dwarf chuckles at that and murmurs something to the elf, who smirks. Sera ignores them both and asks if Cadash glows.

"Sure, why not," says Cadash dryly. Sera peers at her hands, but there's nothing there. "I glow. What's going on?"

Sera explains. Cadash wipes her daggers with an old cloth and asks a lot of questions. The human watches, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She looks angry, but Sera figures she always does. The other dwarf looks through the dead's pockets, humming an old song, and the elf makes little orbs of light appear above each body. It's weird. Makes Sera's skin itch. Cadash doesn't seem to care, so Sera pretends not to notice.

"All right, Sera," says Cadash. She finishes cleaning her daggers and slides them into the sheaths on her back. "I can use you and your friends."

Sera grins, wide enough that her cheeks ache. This is a good night.

"Cassandra," Cadash says, turning to the armored woman, "you think we have enough room for these breeches?"

*

Haven is busy. Always people running around. Lots of shouting. Sera is used to people, their space and their noise, but the mock sword fights give her a headache if she's outside too long, so she sits in the tavern instead. The bard's got a lovely voice, and someone's always telling a story or getting drunk enough to fall over. A dumb man keeps buying her drinks, like that's going to change anything. Sera thinks she'll give him one more chance before she dumps a cup into his lap.

There's not much going on today. Cadash disappeared after breakfast. Cullen's busy yelling orders at his soldiers. That cowled woman is in her tent, writing letters and having quiet conversations with hard-faced scouts. Always knows when Sera is listening is, too, so she stopped trying that weeks ago. Varric is telling tales, but she's heard most of them by now. She doesn't care what Solas is doing. Staring up at the hole in the sky, probably. Frowning.

Sera doesn't need to do anything in Haven, yet. The people here are taken care of—that's what the kitchen maids and Chantry sisters say, anyway, and she believes them. The Tranquil say that, too, but they'll always say that. She needs to see them when no one else is watching. Later. They're all in the Chantry today, working on something for that Mother they picked up in the Hinterlands.

"Herald," someone says, and another says, "Your worship," and soon, the tavern is full of greetings and titles that make Cadash look uncomfortable. She doesn't like the attention, Sera thinks. Not that kind, anyway.

"Hey," says Cadash, when people finally stop talking to her. She leans against the table, tapping her fingers along the wood. "You busy?"

"No," Sera answers, and wonders. And wonders a bit more. Cadash flirts and teases and likes it when Sera calls her adorable, and that's always good. "Why?"

"Wanna come hunting with me?"

Sera isn't wondering anymore. She chews on her tongue, annoyed. Cadash probably expects her to walk around the forest all quiet and elf-y, now. Maybe hang a human from the trees 'cause he looked at her funny.

"Between the two of us, we can kill a few nugs," Cadash says. She leans a bit closer. "I know you're good with a bow."

Sounds dirty, the way she says that. Sera loves it. "Thought dwarves liked nugs."

"Yeah, if they're roasted," says Cadash, and pushes herself away from the table. "Grab your gear. I'll wait."

Sera fetches her bow and quiver and meets up with Cadash by the smithy. They walk towards the training grounds, snow crunching under their boots. Blackwall sits nearby, perched on an upturned box. He smokes a pipe and whittles away at something, glancing up every so often at the gathered soldiers. Wood shavings litter the ground by his feet. He greets them both with a nod and returns to his work.

It's quieter near the forest. A bird chirps and flies out of a nearby tree. Snow drifts off the branches slowly, like they're underwater, and the cold seeps through her boots. Sera flexes her toes and kicks at the ground, sending flurries into the wind.

It's still quiet. Sera doesn't like quiet when there's people around. Usually means something's wrong. She plucks at the bowstring and asks, "D'you have a proper name?"

Cadash turns to her, mouth all twisted to hide a smile. "Do you?"

"Dunno. Didn't have one in the alienage." There, she was _Sera_ and _little one_ and some elf word that hits her ears wrong. She thinks about Lady Emmald, scowling. "I was just Sera."

"I have a big family," says Cadash. She tugs a dagger free and holds the handle between two fingers, letting it dangle. "Really big. Lots of brothers and sisters, and just as many cousins. Everyone calls us Cadash."

"What, even your mum?"

"No, she called me Vera."

"Vera," says Sera slowly. She likes the _v_. Likes touching her teeth to her lip to say it. " _Vera_."

Cadash chuckles to herself. "No one's called me that in years."

"Oh." Probably 'cause her mum died. _Called_ , not _calls_. Stupid. "Sorry?"

"Why?" Cadash asks, frowning, and then she says, "Oh, Mom's still alive. I just haven't seen her for a long time. She had to stop traveling with the family." She taps her knee with the flat of her blade. "Bad knee. She handles a lot of the business through letters now."

"The business," Sera repeats. Cadash nods. "That's proper mysterious."

"Well, it is _crime_ ," says Cadash, laughing.

There's lots of stories about Cadash. Lyrium smuggling, mostly. Other stuff—harder stuff—but they get wilder with each day. Sera is eager to know what's real and what's not. "What kind?"

Cadash laughs again. Sera likes that sound—Cadash laughs with her whole body, shoulders shaking, and her eyes are bright and happy.

"You lookin' for a job, Jenny?"

"I'd be a shit smuggler," Sera says. She kicks at the snow again. "Everyone always checks the elves."

"That's why you don't work alone. It's easy to get lost in a—"

Cadash stops talking and halts, holding her hand up. Sera reaches for an arrow and draws, scanning the ground for movement—there. A lone nug, just a few paces away. It's sniffing at the snow. Hasn't spotted them yet.

"Go," Cadash whispers. Sera lets the arrow loose.

The nug dies, clean and quiet. Another runs from behind a tree, and Cadash throws her dagger before Sera can draw another arrow. It's a bloody death, pinned by its neck to the bark, but it dies just as quickly.

"I got it," says Cadash. She walks over and tugs the dagger loose, wiping it on her leathers before it disappears inside her sleeve. The nugs end up tied to her belt.

Sera follows and picks the arrow, eying it. The tip's broken, but that can be fixed, so she slips it into the quiver. Cadash stares.

"What," says Sera. She always picks up her arrows. Always keeps her quiver full. There's lots of bad things around, and most of 'em need an arrow in the throat. But Cadash is still staring, like she did something wrong, so she adds, "For kindling and shit."

It's a bad excuse; there's enough firewood stored to last Haven through three winters. Cadash just raises an eyebrow and shrugs, saying, "Let's get a few more," so they start walking again.

Sera glances over her shoulder. Haven is a dark smudge in the distance, but there's plenty of movement in that little space. Lots of people. Lots of work. Sera likes it, more than she thought she would, and she knows it's because of Cadash. There's a hole in the sky, and the person who can do something about it actually gives a shit. Andraste did right, touching Cadash the way She did.

After a minute, Cadash says, "You know, I wasn't actually a smuggler."

"Everyone says you were."

"I _worked_ for smugglers," says Cadash. She wipes at her nose with the back of her hand, sniffing. "There's a difference."

Sera looks at the scars. Thinks about how when Cadash walks through a crowd, everyone moves out of her way. How she talks to nobles. How she knows when to speak and when to say nothing at all.

"Knockin' on doors, then," Sera guesses. "Making sure people pay your people."

Cadash points at the sky, nodding. "Family business."

"Must be nice," Sera mutters. There's always people who like to play, but most don't stick around for long. Sounds like Cadash had a whole family with her all the time. Sera knows jealousy like she knows hunger, and it stings hot and awful in her belly.

If Cadash notices, she doesn't say. She just shrugs and says, almost to herself, "It's what I know."

Sera feels the sadness in Cadash's voice like it's her own, and that's not right. Someone like Cadash should never stop smiling. She plucks another arrow from her quiver and taps Cadash's shoulder with it.

"Bet you ten silvers I can hit the next one through the eye."

"I'm not taking that bet," says Cadash, but she's grinning, and Sera can hear the laughter underneath. "You'd bleed me dry, girl."

" _Girl_ ," Sera sputters. That's what old men call her when they catch her thieving or talking to their servants. Not lovely dwarves with quick hands and sharp tongues.

"I hear you're never quite the agreeable girl," says Cadash. She's not singing, but the notes are still there, rattling along in Sera's head. "And your tongue tells tales of rebellion?"

Sera groans, head hanging low. That damn song. She's heard it at least twice a day for a week by now. "Fuck that bard."

"Aw, I like it." Cadash tips her head back and belts out, " _She's a rogue and a thief / And she'll tempt your fate._ "

She doesn't have a bard's voice, but it's still nice to listen to, especially when Cadash looks at her and grins. Sera feels warm all over, even with the wind biting into her skin. "You skipped a few verses."

"Oh, shit," says Cadash, slapping her forehead. "I'll have to start all over again. _Sera was never quite an agreeable girl_ —"

Sera gives up and lets her sing, loud enough that all the nugs run for the hills.

*

Skyhold's a nice place, and Cadash has the best room. Nicest view, too.

Sera sprawls in the center of the biggest bed she's ever seen, stretching her arms above her head. She's all sweaty and tired, knees wonky, and there's still something fluttering in her belly, making her nervous. It was good; she knows that. Made sure of it. Cadash came twice before Sera took her leggings off, swearing like a sailor with her thighs tight around Sera's ears.

"Never had a tumble with a dwarf," Sera tells the ceiling.

Cadash snorts. She's standing at her desk, naked, studying a line of liquor bottles. Sera takes a peek and sighs. Maker, what an arse.

"Heard that one before."

"Oh."

The word sits on Sera's tongue, taking up too much space. She stretches and scratches her belly, trying to get rid of that shape in her mouth. Probably said something wrong. Her words don't fit right, like this, and it's why she wanted to stop talking. It gets worse when she has to think about what to say.

"It's okay," says Cadash. She picks up a bottle, eying the label. "First time for everything."

First time. Sera realizes that she never asked Cadash if she'd been with women before. Always a nice thing to ask, just in case. People get weird about it, sometimes, and it's better to let them talk. She thinks about asking now, but no—it'll sound like she's disappointed, and she's not. Talented fingers, that one.

Cadash decides on a bottle and opens it, taking a quick sniff before she pours two drinks. "Hope you like whisky. It's Nevarran, I think."

"Whisky's always good." Sera struggles to sit up, legs caught in the sheets. She feels too tall, too clumsy, especially since Cadash can hop into bed without spilling anything. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome," says Cadash, setting back against the headboard. She lifts her glass. "Cheers."

They clink their glasses together. Sera brings the drink to her mouth, letting a little whisky past her lips. Not the usual burn—it's soft and smooth, slinking down her throat. "This is the good shit, yeah?"

"Good shit," Cadash agrees, and takes another sip. She crosses her ankles and sighs, eyes on the dark sky. "Do you like the view?"

"Yeah," Sera answers, but she has her eyes on Cadash.

She looks nice, like this. Hair messy, makeup smeared around her eyes. People usually look older when they're not done up, but she doesn't. And she's naked—always a good thing. All that skin. She looks small and almost ordinary in her leathers. Naked, she's firm muscle and scars. Dangerous. Sera likes that.

Cadash let her touch and kiss everywhere, even the horrible scar across her ribs. Earlier, Sera dragged her fingertips gently over the raised skin, and Cadash's belly flexed under her hands. Not a good memory, that. She doesn't need to know why; it's enough that Cadash allowed her to touch.

"I like you better, though," says Sera. She shifts, drawing her legs up as she leans against the headboard.

Cadash hides a grin behind her glass, but Sera spots it. "Well, I like you, too."

"Good," Sera blurts out. Words are bubbling. "'Cause I like this. Being here. With you." More words. Her voice is going higher, like she can escape them. "D'you still—"

"Yes," Cadash cuts in. She tilts her head and leans in and—stops, right before Sera's mouth. "Do you?"

"Uh, _yeah_."

"Good," Cadash murmurs, and they're kissing—and it's wonderful, and Sera is sighing and she never, ever wants to leave this bed.

*

It's cold. The red lyrium hums and throbs like a horrible heartbeat. Sera thinks she can feel it under her boots, beating in time with her pulse.

Dark, too. The sky is black, hiding all the stars. She's tired. So is Cadash. Iron Bull won't say, but he's favoring his good leg and stopping to rub his knee. Dorian stopped complaining hours ago and doesn't talk, dragging himself through the snow with his staff.

They won't reach the next Red Templar camp any time soon. Inquisition camp is four hours in the other direction.

At a cave's entrance, they stop. Iron Bull leans against the stone, pushing his thumbs into his knee. Sera watches Cadash gaze up at the sky and the tangle of caves.

Finally, Cadash says, "Let's sleep. We can hit them tomorrow."

"Sounds good, boss," says Iron Bull, and glances at Dorian. "You feel up to making a fire?"

Dorian nods. Bull pushes himself off the stone and heads inside, hand on his axe.

They find a decent spot to make camp: a little hidden corner, with enough room to fight if they need to. Iron Bull volunteers for first watch, so Sera curls up on the ground with Cadash. They huddle together under Cadash's coat, cold noses and fingertips brushing against warm skin. Iron Bull sits across from them, greataxe balanced against his thigh.

Dorian crouches down and builds a fire between his palms. Watching magic is—weird. Sera still doesn't like the way it crawls over her skin, like she's feeling the Fade fluttering against the real world. She shivers, hiding her face in the Cadash's neck.

The fire looks and feels real: warm, crackling, spitting smoke into the air. Dorian sighs, pressing his palm against the side of his head.

"C'mere," Iron Bull murmurs, touching the back of his knee. Dorian flinches and looks around, like there's a whole crowd watching, so Sera closes her eyes. She's tired—too tired—and Dorian is stubborn enough to sleep alone, and then he'll whine all day tomorrow about how he's stiff and exhausted. Stupid thing to worry about, but there's no fixing it. She's tried, more than once. So's Bull, probably.

She hears Dorian sit down. His boots, scraping against the cave floor, then Iron Bull murmuring something. She cracks open one eye and sees only Bull's back and his arm, tightening.

Cadash touches Sera's cheek and kisses her gently, like they just woke up. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yeah."

Sera leans closer, pressing their foreheads together. There's dirt on Cadash's face, smeared right across her cheek. She tries to brush it away, but her hands are dusty and dirty, and she only makes it worse.

"Oh, no," Sera hisses, wincing. She tries again, leaving a dark smudge on Cadash's cheekbone. "Don't look."

"It's my face. I can't look." Cadash bats Sera's hand away and spits into her own palm. She wipes her cheek and asks, "How am I?"

"Pretty," Sera tells her, because that always makes Cadash grin and wriggle closer.

She does, and they're touching, hands on faces and limbs tangled together. Can't do much in the dark with Bull and Dorian sitting so close, but Sera likes it, all the same. Likes having Cadash nearby. Likes falling asleep on her chest, listening to her breathe. Likes knowing Cadash will be there when she wakes up.

"Love you," Sera says, swallowing a yawn, and Cadash murmurs, "Love you, too," and kisses her again, all soft and light.

*

Val Royeaux is stuffy and awful. Sweat trickles down Sera's neck, sticking to her back. She wipes at her forehead and says, "Fuck weather."

"In general?" Cadash asks. She leans closer, so Sera throws an arm around her shoulder, pressing damp fingers against her leathers. "Could be worse. Could be snowing."

"You can do stuff with snow," says Sera, snatching a pastry from a nearby stall. She tosses coin into the baker's hands before he can yell at her and tears the pastry down the middle, offering half to Cadash. "Snowmen. Snowballs. Snow angels. Can't do shit when it's hot. Swim, maybe?"

Cadash rips a chunk of pasty and chews. After a moment, she swallows and says, "I don't know how to swim."

"What? Shut up."

"I don't," says Cadash. Her cheeks are turning pink. Fucking adorable. "I've tried. I sink like a stone."

"I'll teach you," Sera promises. She stuffs the rest of the pastry in her mouth, saying, "We're meeting with those Cesarean people next, yeah? Right on the Waking Sea. I'll throw you in and fish you out when you sink."

"Blades of Hessarian," Cadash corrects. "Yeah, we're headed there after this."

Lots of people want to meet with Cadash, now. More than before. The big baddie got a dagger—and arrows, and an axe, and some fire and lightning and little bolts of light that make things explode—in the throat, so everyone wants to meet and talk and give her more coin than she can spend and clothes she'll never wear and weapons she'll never use. All of it goes back to Skyhold in caravans. Be simpler if they just sent their gifts with a note, but Josephine says they have to do it this way.

Sera doesn't mind. She likes wandering around the world with her lover and eating good meals every night. Few things are better. Nobles think she's a handmaiden or a servant, sometimes, but that just means she gets to play and find new friends while Cadash deals with the boring bits.

"We have an hour or so," says Cadash. She looks around the markets, eyes darting from the stalls to the store windows. "Do you need anything?"

"No." Baddie's gone. Cadash is happy and breathing, with only a few new scars. Sera doesn't want anything else. Not now. "Want to find somewhere dark and get naked with me?"

Behind them, someone chokes and gasps. Cadash glances over her shoulder, hiding a grin. "Nah. Let's wait 'til tonight."

"No point in waiting," says Sera. She lets her fingers dance along the back of Cadash's neck and thinks about the abandoned shops on the upper levels. "Ends the same way, doesn't it? Wet and happy."

"It'll give me something to think about," says Cadash, and turns abruptly towards the docks. Sera follows, her fingers still trapped under the collar. "These meetings are _tedious_. You get to gossip with the kitchen maids while I hear about grain harvests and how someone's daughter won't marry their son unless they offer—" She gestures wildly with her hands. "Blah blah _blah_."

Sera ducks down and pouts, nuzzling at Cadash's cheek. "Poor you, Inky. All important and busy."

"I'm very important," says Cadash, lifting her chin. She turns and captures Sera's mouth in a quick kiss. "We'll have all night, love. Don't worry."

"Not worrying. Just wanting."

They reach the docks. There's a few fishermen sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling off the edge, and a couple of ships anchored. Someone recognizes Cadash and doesn't do anything but go wide-eyed and still, staring at the marked hand.

"But I can wait, if you like," Sera adds. She drops to the ground, kicking her legs out over the water. Cadash joins her, planting her palms on the ground behind them and leaning back.

"Sun'll set soon," Cadash says, squinting in the light.

"Let's watch," Sera suggests. She digs her fingers into the ground and stretches, seeing if she can get a toe in. Just barely. "Romantic, innit?"

"Damn right it is."

And then it's quiet, and it's good. Sera doesn't mind the silence so much when Cadash is there.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I don't have a beta, so if you spot any errors, feel free to point them out.


End file.
